Deadly Weakness (Gray Spear Society) (16 page)

His phone rang. It was across the room, near the twins. Norbert took off at a sprint. Missing a phone call was something a good
legionnaire
never did.

The phone stopped after two rings, and Bethany started talking into her headset. Apparently, she had taken the call for him.

Panting hard, he approached her. She and Leanna were nestled in the stretchy webbing of their chairs.

"Pick up your phone," Leanna said in her soft, polite voice.

Norbert took his phone off the floor and put it against his ear. "Hello?"

"Is everybody on the line now?" Aaron said.

"Yes, sir," Norbert, Bethany, and Leanna responded.

"Do you have anything to report?"

"No, sir," Norbert said. "We watched the whole tournament. It was incredible."

"But you were also keeping an eye on the other surveillance cameras," Aaron said, "right?"

"Of course, sir."

"Did you notice anything suspicious?"

"I'm not sure what that means," Norbert said. "Could you please be more specific?"

"Did you see any secret meetings?"

"No, sir."

"And the real-time position tracking is working?" Aaron said.

"As far as we can tell."

"Did anybody spy on anybody else? Or sneak into another cabin? Or steal something?"

"No, sir," Norbert said.

"What about a bomb? Did you see anything that looked like a bomb?"

"Are you serious, sir? What the hell is going on?! I'm getting very frustrated with this situation. I don't like being kept in the dark when I'm supposed to be your eyes and ears."

"Orders from Ethel," Aaron said. "She wants this game played a certain way. Not much I can do about it."

Norbert sighed. "Yes, sir. I apologize for my outburst."

"But I expect something will happen tonight. At that point the truth will be self-evident."

"What kind of something?"

"Something big," Aaron said. "I want all three of you watching as much surveillance video as possible. Don't take a break until I say it's OK. We can't let down our guard for an instant tonight. Bethany and Leanna, did you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," the twins said in harmony.

"Listen, it may not seem like it, but you guys have the most important job in this operation. If there is trouble, you'll see it first and warn me. All of us could get killed without that warning. The entire North American division is relying on you."

Norbert took a deep breath. "We won't let you down, sir." Pride made him puff out his chest.

"I know you won't."

* * *

Xavier paced back and forth in his small cabin. The room contained two beds, one for himself and one for Sampson. Their two suitcases were lying open on the floor. A wooden box sat in the corner, and it had been completely packed with weapons upon their arrival. Xavier had taken some of the nicer items for himself, but the box was still mostly full. Aaron had provided more guns, knives, and grenades than Xavier and Sampson could possibly need.

Xavier stopped pacing and took a framed photograph from his suitcase. It was his favorite picture of Rhiannon, whose death was still a fresh wound in his heart after all this time. Her hair looked like black silk. One eye was slightly closed, as if she were about to wink at him. A tear fell on the glass covering. He gently wiped it off, kissed her lips, and put the photograph away. He was doing this for her. It was all about her.

He heard footsteps and turned to the door. Sampson entered the cabin.

"Sir!" he said with wide eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Xavier said. "The banquet is starting soon. I expect the crowd is already gathering."

"I just came to take a quick shower. I'm still feeling weird from the tournament. I'm hoping a hot rinse will settle me down."

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, sir," Sampson said. "They did a great job of healing me. I can't explain it. I just feel... uncertain."

"Then get in the shower. You don't have much time."

Sampson hurried into the bathroom.

Xavier wasn't planning to stay for the banquet, of course. He probably wouldn't even eat the first course. At exactly 7:15, he would be hiding in the woods. It was debatable whether he should show up at all. Ethel would notice his absence, but hopefully, her displeasure wouldn't matter because she would be dead a short time later.

Xavier wasn't entirely confident in that outcome though. Everything depended on Hanley. There was no question of the man's competence. He had a sterling military record, and his time in the FBI had been marked by victory after victory. Xavier had done his homework and had picked the best ally available. However, Hanley suffered from a disease common to successful men: overconfidence. He assumed his good luck would never run out. Xavier had warned Hanley in the strongest possible terms that the Society wasn't just another enemy. Hanley had listened with only mild interest.

Fortunately, he wasn't alone. The FBI Special Missions Unit had been constructed to handle the most dangerous terrorist threats imaginable. They were supposed to be the biggest, meanest dog in the junkyard. They certainly had the capability to launch a devastating attack. It was mostly a question of commitment. Lack of commitment was why they had failed so badly in Miami.

Another concern nagged at Xavier, and his name was Aaron. There was a famous poker saying which went, "if you don't know who the sucker at the table is, it's you." The sucker certainly wasn't Aaron. Everybody who had an opinion thought the man was brilliant. Xavier hated dealing with brilliant adversaries.

He sighed deeply. Anxiety was a weakness he couldn't afford now. He had prepared as best he could, and he would just have to deal with whatever came next.

Sampson came out of the bathroom. His impressive mane of blond hair was damp.

"Feeling better?" Xavier said.

"A little, sir."

"Good. Unfortunately, I'm feeling worse. I'm not going to be at the banquet tonight. Give my regrets to the legate."

"But sir," Sampson said, "she wants everybody there. Attendance is mandatory!"

"It's my stomach. This Wisconsin food doesn't agree with it. The best thing for me now is rest. I'll just stay here tonight. By morning, I should be fully recovered and ready to participate again."

"I'm sorry." Sampson frowned.

Xavier shrugged. "It's just a banquet. There will be another one tomorrow. I'm not missing anything crucial."

"What about the award ceremony?"

"You'll have to tell me about it. Get moving. You don't want to be late. If I feel better later, I'll come for dessert."

"Yes, sir."

Sampson quickly got dressed and left.

After the door closed, Xavier sat on his bed in silence. A long time ago, he had learned to trust his intuition. Right now it was telling him bad things were about to happen.

* * *

Hanley looked up at a full moon and cursed. Every star was crisp and sparkling in a clear night sky. There was far too much light. All his men had night vision gear, but that wouldn't be an advantage if the enemy could see perfectly well. Darkness was his ally.

He continued his slow crawl across frozen grass and patches of snow. He was climbing a hill which would give him a good view of Camp Zonta. He had to stay as low as possible. He didn't know if the enemy had posted sentries.

Hanley's bad knee wasn't helping. The frigid air made the joint feel like it was full of broken glass. Every time he put weight on it, he winced. He had seen a dozen orthopedic surgeons over the years, and all of them had told him there was no way to repair the damage. The cartilage was half gone, and the bones didn't fit together the right way anymore. He had resisted getting an artificial knee, but that option was looking better these days.

He kept crawling despite the pain. He had a job to do.

Finally, he reached the top of the hill and could see the enemy position. A big sign in front read, "Welcome to Camp Zonta, the funnest fun in Wisconsin!" Bright moonlight made the green letters easily readable. The camp itself was a scattering of smaller buildings around a very large one. Lights were on all over, and nearly every window in the central building was lit. Something big was definitely happening in there.

The main road into the camp appeared completely clear. Hanley didn't see any sentries, fences, or barricades. He saw no obvious signs of any security at all. As far as he could tell, he could walk right into camp without any trouble.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. According to Xavier, the Gray Spear Society was extremely paranoid. They would never allow themselves to be so exposed to an attack.

There was a large sign near the road. Hanley crept closer until he could make out the letters.

"WARNING!" the sign read, "there are places ordinary men should never go. Things they shouldn't see. Roads they shouldn't travel. This is one of those roads. Death waits beyond this point."

Hanley snorted. Was the sign a joke? He couldn't believe anybody would seriously post something like that.

He turned around and started down the hill. He moved quicker now, crouching instead of crawling. There was less danger than he had feared.

He reached the bottom a couple of minutes later. A long line of cars and trucks were parked on the side of the road, stretching into the darkness. The entire Special Missions Unit was here.

Most of the men were already in full combat gear and were moving into attack formation. A few were still adjusting their ballistic vests and helmets. Everybody, FBI and military alike, carried assault rifles, side arms, grenades, and night vision goggles. It was hard to tell the two sides of the Unit apart, and it didn't really matter. All of them were capable warriors.

Two M113 armored personnel carriers were parked on the road at the head of the line. The metal beasts would lead the charge into the camp after the bombardment ended. The engines were already running, and dirty diesel smoke spewed from the tailpipes.

Hanley walked over to a clearing where the mortar teams were getting ready. There were ten tubes, each serviced by a team of three soldiers. Twenty rounds were stacked neatly behind each mortar. Each round was about fifteen inches long and sixty millimeters wide. They had a killing radius of ten meters from the point of impact.

During his military career, Hanley had seen mortars used many times. He had never received formal training, but the principles were very simple. You just dropped a round in the tube and got out of the way. They fired at a very high angle, and distance was controlled by picking the right trajectory. The flatter the arc, the farther the round would go. These rounds had a maximum range of 2500 meters, but tonight they were shooting at a target merely 500 meters away.

The gunners had their flashlights out. They were studying satellite photos and measuring distances carefully. This information was entered into handheld electronic gadgets to compute the correct angles. The gunners made it look like a precise science, but mortars were notoriously inaccurate. It usually took several tries to actually hit a specific target. Fortunately, they had plenty of ammunition.

"Is everybody ready to go?" Hanley checked his watch. "We commence in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir," some of the soldiers responded.

Hanley went off in search of Colonel Rosecrans and found him giving final instructions to his men. Even though the colonel was the oldest member of the Unit, he still moved quickly and with purpose. He was certainly more mobile than Hanley with his bum knee.

"There you are!" Rosecrans said. "I guess you finished your reconnaissance."

"Yes," Hanley said. "We're in the right place."

"I still don't know why you exposed yourself like that. The lookouts already gave us the same report."

Hanley peered at the starry night sky. A helicopter was up there, but it was too high to be seen or heard. Two lookouts were watching the action from above with binoculars.

"I had to be absolutely sure," Hanley said. "Before we start dropping bombs on something, I want to see it with my own eyes. I'll be held responsible if civilians get killed."

"What did the security look like?"

"It didn't look like anything, actually. I didn't see a single guard. I think the whole gang is in the main building, just like my contact promised. His intelligence continues to be good."

"Then it should be a quick and easy battle," Rosecrans said.

"Maybe a little too easy."

"Not everything has to be hard. The enemy screwed up this time, and we're taking advantage."

Hanley nodded. "I hope you're right. We'll know soon." He checked his watch again. "In twelve minutes to be specific."

* * *

Aaron watched the crowd in the dining room from a back corner. He was trying to count heads to see who was missing, but with everybody still milling around, an accurate count was impossible. One thing was clear though: the guests were in a good mood. Last night they had treated each other with quiet suspicion. A day later, they were laughing like old friends at a reunion. Aaron overheard snippets of conversation, and it seemed everybody was talking about the tournament.